


I Knew You Were Trouble (And I Love It)

by Faiktra



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Middle of Costa Run, Monsterlovin, Other, They're in love!! they're in love!!, i mean...its venom..., implied monsterfucking, mild body horror, peter parker has no rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 19:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21361681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faiktra/pseuds/Faiktra
Summary: Eddie and the symbiote are recently back together after their stint apart and are getting used to each other again. Eddie goes off on needless tangents (as he does) and somehow they arrive at a discussion of the symbiotes name -- or lack thereof.
Relationships: Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote
Comments: 13
Kudos: 135





	I Knew You Were Trouble (And I Love It)

**Author's Note:**

> It sure is a good thing there haven't been any comics after Costa's run!!!

Menace. It is a foul menace. It mocks him, filling up the entire field of his vision, blinking in and out of existence. Even that base construct of its being taunts him. Sometimes it is there, sometimes not. It hovers over the definition of physicality, moving in and out but always, _always_, haunting him.

Stupid, fucking cursor.

Eddie has been a journalist for years, decades, partly because he’s good at it (so it pays the bills) but mostly because he enjoys it. Enjoyed the thrill of chasing down a story and the challenge of committing it to permanence through the written word. He usually enjoys the challenge of the written (and spoken) word. Right now, however, he’s ready to chuck his laptop out the fucking window and watch with visceral glee as it smashes to pieces on the greasy sidewalk below.

Leaning back heavily against the top of his creaking desk chair, Eddie stretches until he feels the satisfying sensation of his upper spine popping before dropping his head with a groan. He’s been working on – struggling with – this particular article, or rather this particular sentence for hours now or maybe it’s been days, he does have a tendency to lose track of time when he’s working and - -

“**EDDIE?** **UPSET?**”

His other smooths up his cervical vertebra to resettle at the base of his skull. Eddie feels the cool, tingling sensation of the symbiote fiddling with his body before the tension headache that’s been building for the past hour dissipates, fuzzing out along with a majority of his annoyance.

“Thanks, love.” He murmurs, reaching back to thumb at the edge of his hairline in appreciation and can’t help the smile that cracks his face as a feeling of pleased contentment emanates from his alien partner. They wiggle around his spinal column and down his sternum to seep into his chest cavity, looping lazily over his godforsaken bleeding heart.

**“LIKE TO HELP, EDDIE.” **

He hums in agreement, and revels in the double feeling of his chest rumbling and whatever the symbiote is vibrating with which seems to be an endearing cocktail of **_-happysafehelpfulgoodhappyhappytrustedhappy-_**. Eddie knows his other likes to help. They’ve always wanted to help, not that many other people could see that. Sure, sometimes they took things a little too far, but so did he, so who was he to judge? Now though after a long period of growth (individually and communally), now they’re both in a place where they help in a smaller, but perhaps a more productive, manner. Like with headaches. Or bank robberies, without the added ‘assistance’ of killing the robbers. Most of the time. Or hey –

“Darling, I’m having trouble with this sentence, do you think you could help?” They did have access to his prestigious vocabulary after all and had spent plenty of time on the internet at this point practicing human interactions. Hell, maybe this article could use some alien perspective to shape it up. A smooth (very much like the unbroken surface of a pond when you delicately skim your hand over the top, in his experienced opinion) black head bobs up from where it was nestled safely under his skin to peer at the blinding light of his computer screen. Milky, iridescent eyes narrow at where the accursed cursor still blinks.

**“WHICH PART, EDDIE?” **His other turns to look questionably at him and he has the sudden, overwhelming impression of stain glass windows before his brain catches up to what the symbiote has asked him.

“This part here…it feels so clunky and unfocused. I feel like I’ve lost the important bits in all the grandiose trimmings.”

A squiggle of amusement shimmies up his side and his other weaves around to bump him on his chin. **“YOU DO LIKE ‘GRANDIOSE’ LANGUAGE, EDDIE.”** They press the side of their face to his cheek.** “MAYBE TOO MUCH?” **

Well…he supposes that’s possible. The symbiote is right, he does have a proclivity for being overly verbose. But he likes big words. He likes the feeling of them curling around his tongue almost to the same extent that he likes the feeling of curling his tongue around razor-sharp fangs. Both feel deliciously strange, like his mouth has become a foreign object, which isn’t too far from the truth, actually. And he’s had plenty of foreign objects in his mouth since this all began – sealed behind his lips, brushing against the roof of his mouth, slithering gently down his throat – that he’s bound to recognize (and appreciate) the feeling.

**“…EDDIE…” **His other is gazing at him with a decidedly smug expression, like they can tell what direction his thoughts have taken, which… they can. He fights off a blush and gathers the gooey form in his hands to press a smacking kiss between their eyes. Said eyes scrunch up in feigned disgust, the glow of the computer screen backlighting his darling in a luminous disk as a teasing ‘hsst’ tickles his nose. **“DIDN’T KNOW YOU WANTED _THAT_ KIND OF HELP, EDDIE.” **

A delighted laugh booms out of him, encouraging the symbiote to wiggle with the joyful sound waves; they’ve always loved the distinct vibrations of his laugh. “Darling, as much as I would enjoy a little ugly bumping with you, you know I meant help with the article.”

**“KNOW, EDDIE, JUST LIKE TO TEASE.” **They knock against his chin again before turning back to the text on the screen. That ‘like’ is more recent than their like of helping, one that seems to have surfaced with their reunion. Maybe it’s something they learned from Thompson, although Eddie sincerely hopes not. His other’s relationship with the veteran isn’t something Eddie cares to dwell on, as much as the symbiote assures him it wasn’t anything like what they have. And it’s not that he doesn’t trust the symbiote about that but well…old habits and insecurities die hard. Some harder than others.

**“BOTH NEEDED SELF-IMPROVEMENT…” **The symbiote reassures, reaching a stray tendril out to tap on his knuckles and projecting a burst of **_-reassurance-_** and **_-trust-_** at him without turning away from the screen. Eddie smiles, using his thumb to tap back at the creeping trail of goop and returns the projection with his own twang of **_-appreciation-. _**They sit in relative silence for a few minutes while the symbiote skims his writing, eyes narrowed in concentration or contentment or both. He closes his own so they can focus, letting his mind fill their silence with background Frank Sinatra, a favourite of theirs since the beginning. Eventually, he feels a prod at his consciousness so he opens his eyes to see a portion of the passage that his other has highlighted. **“KEEP USING THIS PHRASE, EDDIE, SEEMS REDUNDANT.”**

Eddie squints at the screen in curiosity; which part is the redundant bit? The only word he repeats is the corrupt CEO’s name, which okay yes maybe he should add in more pronouns to switch it up, but the symbiote is pointing directly at the dude’s name like it’s the offender. “Could you elucidate, love?”

His other lets out a put-upon sigh of clicks before rumbling, **“THIS PART, HERE.” **They jab the screen by the man’s name again,** “KEEP USING THE SAME WORD OVER AND OVER. BORING.”**

“That’s his given name, darling, I have to use it. Although, I do agree, it’s not very…inspiring… to say the least.” Certainly no one would shake in their boots over the name Brian Smith. For God’s sake, if you were going to be a reprehensible villain, might as well give yourself a thrilling moniker for the fair citizens to scream, right?

**“CHANGE IT.” **The symbiote asserts with a decisive head bob.

“I can’t just change his legal name.”

**“WHY NOT? CHANGE MY NAME ALL THE TIME.” **His other’s confusion squirms around behind his eyes, much as they usually do under his skin. And the confusion is only magnified as he processes what they said.

“Wait, what? What do you mean you change your name all the time?” Eddie jerks upright from where he was slouched low in the chair. “Fuck wait, have you had a name this whole time?” His stomach clenches at the thought. What if he’s been calling them the wrong thing for years? For decades? He just assumed after they never gave him a name when they introduced themselves, but maybe they were just nervous he wouldn’t like it. They were so scared all the time back then, freshly rejected by someone they loved for something they had no control over. _Fuck._ Fuck him. (Also fuck Peter Parker, but that wasn’t a rabbit hole he could fall down right now.)

The symbiote swings their head around to look at him and his panic must be apparent on his face because theirs softens – at least as much as soft goo can soften further. **_“YOU _CHANGE MY NAME ALL THE TIME, EDDIE.”** A wave of -**_lovecalmreassurancelovelove_**\- settles against his swirling intestines. **_“_’PARTNER’, ‘OTHER,’ ‘DARLING’, ‘LOVE.’ NEVER HAD JUST ONE NAME WITH YOU.” **

Eddie splutters, not at a loss for words per se (an unlikely event), rather at a loss for any good ones. “I—that’s different! Those are just nicknames…” Fuck. Names were so important. They’re usually what people’s first impressions are based off of, even unconsciously. Names were carefully selected by either the parents or the individual as a representation of what kind of person they were going to be. Eddie Brock was Eddie Brock for a reason, not Edward or Ed or Allen even. The idea that he had chosen the symbiotes name, the idea that he had done it offhandedly, instinctively, unintentionally, with no care or concern of how it would affect the symbiote was a little nauseating. Even if they had been terms of endearment. “You should get to pick your own name.”

**“IT’S IMPORTANT?”**

“I…yes…I think it’s important.” The symbiote scrunches up their pretty,pretty eyes, form becoming slightly sticky in their concentration. “Take your time, though, choose one you really like…although if you change your mind later, I don’t mind sw—”

**“’LOVE’.” **

“Pardon?”

His other leans forward and presses their silky head between his eyebrows. The shimmering iridescence of their eyes hold his gaze, an illustrious ciborium over his stuttering anxiety. He sucks in a breath as they gently headbutt him, finding he already knows what their answer is going to be. **“I CHOOSE ‘LOVE’. AND ‘DARLING.’ AND ‘PARTNER’ AND ‘OTHER’.”**

“Oh…oh, of course, darling. Whatever you desire.” The nature of the symbiote means that they’re always grinning at him, sort of, but now their grin stretches out into a toothy smile, fangs glinting in the bright light of the laptop screen. “I’ll call you whatever you desire.”

They nod, evidently glad that his overwhelming worry has been replaced with overwhelming adoration, chest nearly bursting with it. And wouldn’t that be cinematic? The manifestation of their love, ripping through his chest, shredding lung and bone and artery and nerve and fatty tissue, to come roaring into the physical world, so that everyone could gaze in admiration – and maybe a little bit of horror – at how they feel. Like a better version of that sci-fi thriller the symbiote had insisted they watch (and then hated).

**“YOU MAY CALL ME ’HONEY’…’SWEETHEART’…’BABE’…’ANGEL’…” **They reach a tendril out to tickle his ear with that last one. Apparently, he has not been as subtle as he thought with his biblical sidebars. He blushes but feels no shame. His other is something of grandiose beauty and worthy a little blasphemy every now and again.

“What about ‘pookie’?”

**“HMM…” **

“’Smoochums’? My ‘main squeeze’? ‘Toots’?” He powers through the pinch he receives, “Oh, I know! ‘Babylicious’!”

**“EDDIE.”**

Eddie beams at the resignation in the symbiotes voice. They’ve given him entirely too much power and he’s never done too well with great power. Leveling him with a look that would inspire fear in anyone else, his other rumbles good-naturedly. **“YOU MAY CALL ME ANYTHING, WITHIN REASON.” **

“Ah...I see. And what about everyone else? What will they call you?” The symbiote nuzzles against his cheek, where a layer of stubble prickles them, before encircling his upper body with a thin layer of goo in their version of a hug. He sends a burst of pure **_-lovelovelovelovelovelove- _**towards his other and presses a kiss to their mouth when they wrap him in reciprocal **_-lovelovelovelovelovelove-_**

**“THEY MAY CALL _US_ ‘VENOM’.”**

**Author's Note:**

> im @cisphobicparentalunit on tumblr pls come talk to me about goos


End file.
